


Defend, Disarm, Destroy

by filenotch



Series: Negotiate 2 [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filenotch/pseuds/filenotch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't easy.  None of it is.  When he really worries, though, are the times when McKay's mouth loses the slant and becomes a straight line across his face.  When he's quiet.  Like right now.</p><p>He wants to say something, to hide behind the easy banter that distracts them in tense situations, but he knows that the only thing that will come out of Rodney's mouth, if he opens it at all, is a scream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defend, Disarm, Destroy

**Author's Note:**

> _After Sin, tension ratchets between Rodney and John. An episode-style fic with blood, alien culture, and Rodney fouling up the first contact, but not in the way you'd expect._

It isn't easy. None of it is. When he really worries, though, are the times when McKay's mouth loses the slant and becomes a straight line across his face. When he's quiet. Like right now.

He wants to say something, to hide behind the easy banter that distracts them in tense situations, but he knows that the only thing that will come out of Rodney's mouth, if he opens it at all, is a scream.

Rodney's eyes are closed, his breathing forcibly slow and even, and really, thinks John, it's not like he's even hurt that badly, and you can get used to the smell of blood.

 

==-==

"You have got to be kidding me," muttered McKay. "If I see one more village of thatched huts...."

"And they look empty." Teyla said. "Perhaps the Wraith have been here already."

Sheppard heard the sadness in her voice, but said nothing. His spider sense was tingling, and he halted. Ronon stopped next to him, and Sheppard glanced up. They nodded at each other, then looked to Teyla. She felt it, too.

McKay was oblivious. "Huts, comma, grass, comma, empty. Can we go home now?"

"Rodney," said Sheppard softly, "Check your instruments."

"Oh, right. Because I'm going to find a power source on a Wraith-decimated world."

"No assumptions, Dr. McKay." Sheppard willed him to look over, and when McKay did look up, he stilled. Sheppard gave the smallest of nods, glad that even if McKay didn't have a spider sense, he had at least learned to read his team-mates wariness.

McKay paid attention to his readings. "Oh. Power. Massive. That way, about half a kilometer," he said, pointing to the right where the sun hung about twenty degrees up from the tree line, which was either east or west, depending on what time of day it was, local.

"Rodney, you're with Teyla. Ronon with me. Let's check the houses." John shifted his weapon in his hands, feeling the familiar balance and at the same time airing the sweat that slicked his palms. He wasn't sure what had spooked him, but as he looked around, he understood. The place was too perfect. It smelled like nothing. If it were long-abandoned, the hangings that served to cover the arches of the doorways would not be in such good condition, nor the pathways so even. If it were recently abandoned, there would be some smell of outhouse and old smoke. It was like walking on to a movie set for a generic Bronze Age farming village, only one that wasn't particularly well-researched.

The first house looked like it was built of mud plastered over a wood frame, thatched with some local, reddish straw. Sheppard and Ronon flanked the door without needing to talk. The movement of eyes and a slight elevation of John's chin gave Ronon the go-ahead to enter.

Ronan rolled himself around the doorframe, somehow squeezing himself between curtain and post. John relaxed slightly when the voice came back, "Clear."

He stepped inside. The house had two rooms, and they stood in a sparsely furnished area with a cold hearth and a table. John stepped outside and looked at the top of the house, but could see nothing that would serve as a chimney. When he stepped back in, Ronon turned from the opening to the second room. "Bed frames," he said. "No mattresses, and no dust."

"Hmm." An idea was forming in Sheppard's brain. "Can I borrow one of your knives?" he asked, running his fingers over the walls, and feeling the texture of whatever substance served as plaster.

"Large or small?"

"Huh? Stronger than mine."

"Here."

John took the offered knife. It felt good in his hand, and he resisted the urge to use it for target practice. No sense letting Ronon know he could throw big knives. Sheppard dug the point into the wall, and the surface gave way. He leveraged out a piece and looked at the white, porous backing. Nothing natural about it.

"This is fake."

Ronon raised his eyebrows and reached for the roof to pull free a strand of the thatch. He ran it through his fingers. "Plastics."

"One word," John quoted automatically.

"What?"

"Nothing. Cultural reference." John didn't think Ronon would get _The Graduate_.

They met McKay and Teyla in the village's main street. "We're in Disney World," McKay said. "This is the work of Imagineers."

"Could this be like Olesia where they put prisoners on an island with a gate?" Teyla asked. "Might they sacrifice some to save many?"

"No, that doesn't make any sense," answered McKay. "You could practically read that power source with a dowsing rod."

"Maybe we should set you up with a nice willow stick," Sheppard drawled, "because there's this thing about instruments. They only work if you bother to look at them."

"Okay, lulled by a false sense of security given by the nature of the roofing materials, I didn't look. The Wraith will come through in a dart, and having flown one, Colonel, you should know that they won't have to look. The dashboard will light up with a big message that says, 'Food thataway!'"

Sheppard shrugged off the sarcasm. Now that he had Rodney's attention, what he most wanted was information. The village felt creepy. "What about life signs in the local vicinity?"

"Oh." McKay blinked and turned back to the instrument in his hand. "Nothing nearby as big as a human."

Sheppard stepped away, toward the house he and Ronan had examined. "Dr. McKay, come with me a minute."

He motioned McKay to go in first, then looked back to see that Ronon and Teyla had taken positions under the eaves of different houses, watching the path.

He pushed aside the heavy door curtain to see McKay's back. "What is it, Colonel?"

Sheppard closed his eyes, to block out another image, one of Rodney waiting for him on the balcony every night for two months, and then not at all for the last five days. He wasn't sure what to say, so he went with what had to be said. "You're off your game. I can't afford that."

"I won't let it happen again."

"Rodney?"

"What?"

"Do I need to take us back through the gate?"

"Jesus, you sound like a dad with a van full of obnoxious kids." McKay turned. "I'm sorry, Colonel. My mind has been elsewhere."

John knew precisely where his mind had been, but neither of them could afford to think about it now. "Get it on the mission, McKay. This could be fine, or it could be completely weird. I need that brain of yours on line to find out which it is."

McKay didn't look at him. He was playing military, down to the upright posture and the gaze over Sheppard's left shoulder, except that the venom in his voice could have had him written up for insubordination. "Understood, Colonel."

That was a bad sign, and Sheppard thought that maybe they should turn back. Instead he said, "Good." He led the way out of the house. "What more can you tell me about those power readings?"

==-==

The slow, regular drips beneath him are annoying. The noise is close, and John is pretty sure he knows the source. He can feel it trickling down his side.

==-==

"I am Teyla Emmagen. We are peaceful explorers, interested in trade." She moved her hand in presentation.

On cue, Sheppard introduced himself, then Dr. Rodney McKay and Ronon Dex.

The people they faced bowed deeply, so they bowed in return. Teyla was the only one who managed it gracefully.

"We are pleased to make you welcome," said the man who stood slightly ahead of the rest of the delegation. He looked from Sheppard to Ronon to McKay, and then back to Sheppard. His hair was pulled into a topknot, and his features and clothing continued the illusion that they'd been greeted by the Gentlemen from Japan. Long swords were held by the wide sashes around their waists.

The archaic flavor of the clothing was contrasted by the hover car in which they had arrived and the rise of a city behind them. Something about the architecture was familiar, or maybe it only seemed so in an "all alien cities look weird" sort of way.

There was a short silence. Sheppard felt McKay shifting beside him, and knew he was eager to look at that car. Not even a blade of grass was bent under the floating vehicle, and Rodney had to be itching to ask questions, to take the thing apart.

Teyla said, "I apologize if you have customary greetings that we have not fulfilled. We have never had opportunity to visit your people before. Please instruct us in how we should proceed, so that we will be strangers no longer."

John had to hand it to her. The two in back exchanged short, pleased glances, and the man in front managed to preen without moving, but his eyes stayed on Sheppard.

"Among our people, you would say that you are honored by the welcome, but are unworthy to receive it."

Ronan and McKay, flanking him, had equally tense and barely restrained reactions, but Sheppard spoke before Teyla could, bowing again "We are deeply honored that you should stoop to instruct us, and agree that our worth is lacking. We hope you will overlook our many faults and deep ignorance." He prayed the others would take his lead.

As McKay bowed next to him, he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "What kind of crap is that?"

"Shh."

When they rose, the leader was almost smiling. "I hope that I prove sufficient to the task."

There was nothing said for a few moments, and Sheppard knew that they were being tested. Teyla and Ronon had a natural quiet, simply waiting. When Rodney began to shift next to him, Sheppard stilled him with a look.

At last, the man in front said, "I am Setsu. With me are Monatu and Injotu. What service may we offer you?"

==-==

The dripping noise is annoying, but John feels himself slipping into unconsciousness, lulled by weakness, and the sound of Rodney's breathing.

 

==-==

"Look, I'm only saying that-"

"I know what you're saying, Rodney. You've said it three times already."

Sheppard pinched his nose. The formalities, and the mutual assurances of unworthiness and esteem had exhausted him, and only now had they been left alone to regroup. He wished he were truly alone, but a few moments with the team, or however long it turned out to be until they were called to a formal meal, were suddenly precious. Besides, it wasn't entirely clear yet if they had been given this room as a consideration or for confinement. It was beautiful, in a spare and asymmetrical way that was almost familiar.

"This place reminds me of Japan, and I could never get all that bowing and business card stuff right." Rodney jumped up from the brocade chair and began to pace.

"It reminds me of Japan, too." Sheppard looked up to see Ronon and Teyla exchanging looks. Ronan leaned against a deep window frame, creasing the embroidered, red curtain against a corner. Teyla sat quietly on a seat with no back, where she could see both the door and the window.

Sheppard explained, "We're talking about a culture from home. They're very formal, and everyone else is a barbarian who doesn't know how to act any better than Fido. The family dog. Dog. That's an animal kept as a pet." Damn, all Ronon and Teyla had to do was raise their eyebrows, and he knew he was too deep into Earth cultural references. "It's an oversimplification, but you get the drift." They nodded, and he thought, of course they got it. They'd been experiencing it all day.

McKay, as usual, hadn't noticed how they were leaving Ronon and Teyla behind in the conversation. To Sheppard he said, "You've been to Japan?"

"Once or twice. On business." John recalled how his host had so thoroughly inconvenienced himself to provide everything John didn't, in fact, want. The whole thing only covered his host's obvious sense of superiority, for all that John could have taken him down in two moves in a fair fight, half a move in an unfair one, or bought the guy's house in cash at Tokyo prices without ever skimping on lunch. He never let on, however. It would have been impolite to his host.

"Look, Rodney, it's a game, and this is the part where you learn the rules."

McKay looked at him, nothing on his face to give anything away, but he said, "You're all about the rules?" It was barely a question.

Sheppard kept the same nothing on his own face, and thought hard at Rodney that now was not the time. He said, "Sometimes rules matter, and rule number one here is that we are not worthy." He stressed the word "here" just enough to remind Rodney to get his head back in the mission.

Teyla interrupted them. "Rule number two must be that females are listened to, but that everyone pretends we are not in the room."

Sheppard turned to her. "Are you doing okay with that?"

She frowned slightly. "I was not, at first, until I realized that they heard and respected my words, but answered to you. They did not talk as if you had been the one to speak first, however. It is very odd."

Sheppard said, "I wonder if that behavior works like a veil."

"A veil? What do you mean?" Ronon asked, looking up from the window.

"In some Earth cultures, women cover themselves completely so as not to tempt men. If you don't see a woman, you can't be tempted to impure thoughts."

"There are women every where we go," Ronon said. "They're not dressed much different from the men. Except for the swords."

"Right," Sheppard nodded. "Rule number three is that they don't make much distinction between civilians and military. Every single male is armed with one of those pigstickers."

"And they all move like soldiers," Ronon said, nodding back to the window where he had been watching the street below. "When McKay took off down that corridor, those priests went after him like a military escort."

"So do I get to enumerate rule number four?" asked McKay. "They don't make much distinction between technology and religion. If they didn't, that stupid _priest_ wouldn't have been about to completely ruin those crystals."

"They weren't too thrilled about that, Rodney." John was glad that they were finally getting to the heart of the matter.

"What could I have done wrong?" McKay said, pacing. "All I did was fix their stupid machine."

"Well, you violated rule number five, I think," Sheppard answered.

"Which is?"

"Do not question your superiors."

"Oh, come on! These people are in no way my superiors. Even... even Kavanagh could have done a better job than that kludge I fixed."

"But they do things as they have always been done," Teyla said, walking over to Rodney to put a hand on his shoulder and still the pacing. "They think it is disrespectful to change things. They feel that their technology is a gift from the Ancients, and that the Ancients will take it away if they do not follow the holy writings."

"But those holy books are just instruction manuals!" McKay made a gesture of dismissal, shaking off her hand.

"Wait," Sheppard interrupted. "How do you know this, Teyla."

"I asked a question of our guide, Setsu. He pretended not to hear me, but started a conversation with his aid - "

"The one with two swords. Monatu, right?" Ronon asked.

"I believe that is his name. Monatu and Setsu helped me to understand how technology and religion are so much intertwined here, and it is fear that the Ancients will return and take away their gifts. They called them the Ghost Gods, but given the technology, I think they may mean the Ancestors." Teyla smiled in the way that signaled her gentle sarcasm. "They ignored me as I thanked them for helping me to repair my unworthy ignorance."

"Good work," John said, admiring her cleverness.

Ronon snorted. "So that's what caused the scene at the temple? Not that McKay took off for a room they hadn't planned to show us, but that he did something that wasn't in the books?"

"Some of them believe it was in the books," Teyla said, "but they had not interpreted it correctly. Dr. McKay looks like a prophet to some."

Sheppard filled in the other half, "Others think he committed the world's biggest heresy?" Teyla nodded.

"The books are barely useful, at least what I saw, and they certainly were not written by the Ancients. It's like an auto mechanic trying to write an engineering text book. None of it is exactly _wrong_ , but it's incomplete. Plus, they're--" McKay broke off his pacing as he searched for the word. The choice surprised Sheppard. "They're _fetishizing_ science," McKay exploded. "They call it the Temple of the Process, and have no idea what a scientific or engineering process actually might be. Talking to them is like, like American fundamentalists referring everything back to scripture that they haven't ever even thought about. It's all spoon-feeding and blind obedience."

Sheppard blinked, and shook his head slightly to clear out the images brought up by Rodney referring to anything fetish and the disconnect of hearing him say anything thoughtful about religion. There were depths there that he had barely suspected.

"Could you tell what it was you fixed?" Sheppard asked. "It seemed pretty important to them."

"Of course it was important. It was a control panel for an underground facility that--"

"That what?"

"I don't know," McKay seemed puzzled. "Some sort of hydraulics and temperature regulation, but they seemed happy that it was working again, whatever it was. Probably the sewers. Whatever it was, it's still not working right, because some other previous repair attempt must have permanently screwed up one of the functions."

Teyla said, "But they may trade with us because they've seen some benefit from an outsider."

Sheppard nodded, thankful to her for bringing them back to the matter at hand. "I wonder what we can trade for one of those hover cars."

"Definitely cool," McKay said. "Star-Wars-level cool."

"Did anyone else hear something about a nall?" Ronon asked.

"Nall?"

"That's what it sounded like. Someone near me seemed to think McKay was calling down the wrath of the Ancestors, and wanted to send us all to the nall."

There was a knock at the door. Sheppard was about to call for whoever it was to come in, but he remembered in time that this culture might find that highly rude. He rose and signaled to the rest to stand. "Ronon, please admit our hosts."

==-==

John wakes to the sound of Rodney retching. Apparently he isn't getting used to the stench of blood, and truth be told, it isn't sitting so well with John either. Neither is pain of the metal grid under his backside. There is not much he could do to help, but if Rodney has progressed to throwing up, maybe he could actually open his mouth without screaming.

"You okay over there?" He turns to look, a much as the shackles and the cut in his side will let him, but Rodney is hunched down with his head between his bare knees. John watches for a minute, trying to see how bad the cut on Rodney's arm really is, but it's on the far side. When Rodney catches his breath, he doesn't look at John, but instead stares at the wall in the distance.

"What an amazing smell you've discovered."

Oh, good, thinks John. He's quoting Star-Wars. That's a good sign. "Well you're not exactly helping over there. I'm just bleeding. You added vomit to the mix."

Someone must have been paying attention, because there is suddenly noise and light below them, under the metal grid where they are chained. John tries to turn himself to look down, but the wound in his side will not permit much movement. He can see Rodney looking down, and watches him close his eyes and lean back, out of John's line of sight. That is not a good sign.

Voices came from below.

"I told you they'd lose their lunch. That's a meat pie you owe me. Plus, you clean it up."

"Screw that. It's your turn."

"At least it isn't shit."

"You think they'd figure a way to do this better. I mean, I designed a whole system that would deal with the piss and shit while the blood reached the -"

"I know, you described it a hundred times, but they don't listen to us. If it's not in their precious Process books, it can't be done."

There is a pause, a sound of cleaning. "Hate to waste the blood mixed up in this."

"It's not much. The gate had not yet opened."

"Did I ever tell you what got me kicked out the Temple?"

"A hundred times."

"But think of it, it would be so much more efficient to hang them up, to do something to figure out how to cut to prolong life and still get the blood to the -"

"But that's not what's been done. It doesn't have the trial by nall. It wasn't given to us by the Ancestors. It won't keep _them_ asleep."

There was a heavy sigh. "You, too, huh? Well, have you seen the outlanders?"

A short laugh answered. "Just their backsides. You?"

"No. I hear they are from another planet, through the Ghost God's ring."

"It happens every few years, and as soon as someone finds us, the priests block them from returning. Wherever they're from, there won't be any others behind them. You go up and clean the grid, then, if you want to look at them. I'll stay here and catch the flow-through."

Rodney finally looks at John, and then they both squint in the light from an opening door. A Takkan man with very short hair approaches, carrying a wooden bucket. He stares at them for a moment, then looks around, apparently to see which of them vomited.

He calls down to the man below them. "The one on your left. Ready?"

"Go."

The man pours the liquid in the bucket between Rodney's knees, rinsing down the mess and leaving a heavy scent like camphor. John can hear the drips and spats of the water being caught by something, a tarp or bucket, below. "That's got it," says the man.

"How did you draw the short straw?" asks John, as he turns to go.

The Takkan looks back at him. "Did they not instruct you not to speak?"

"Sure. They said lots of other things, too, but I'm not much for the rules." He ignores the choked sound from Rodney. "Besides, you two were making enough racket to wake the dead, so I'm guessing the holy hush-hush is kind of optional."

"Come on," says the voice from below. "Don't engage them. They're outlanders. Animals."

"I'm not an animal," says John. "Neither is he." He indicates Rodney with his head. "In fact, he's a scientist. But we don't have Books of the Process. We create our own processes. We do experiments."

"Don't listen to them! They want you to -"

"To what?" the man calls down. "Be more untouchable than I already am?"

"You're new enough. You don't know how bad it can get."

The man looks thoughtfully at Rodney, his free hand rubbing through his very short hair. John realizes that there is another parallel to Japan. They lost their top knots when they lost status.

"What's an experiment?"

"Don't!" shouts the voice. "I will not listen!" John hears footsteps and the banging of a door, then the lights below go dim, leaving them in the twilight where the world seems defined by metal grids and walls.

"What does it mean, experiment?"

Rodney does not answer. His breathing has gone back to the deep and controlled pace, and John wonders if he is trying to keep from vomiting again.

John answers. "It's a systematic way of gaining new knowledge. You test things."

"How do you do that?"

He doubts they will get out of here without the help of one of their captors, so he uses an example that might work. "Like the way you were talking about learning how to make the bleeding last longer. How would you do that?"

"I've thought about it. I would map the body, and make cuts in different places to different depths."

"On the same body, or different ones?"

"Well, the same, I suppose."

"Ah, but you'd contaminate your data, right Rodney?" Rodney remains silent. "What if you made, say, the tenth cut, and they die quickly, you wouldn't know that the fifth cut was the one that would let them bleed the longest and most steadily."

"I see." The man squats on his haunches and rubs his head. "How do you know how to do that?"

"You think it through. You plan in your head, anticipate outcomes, and make sure you have comparisons. You measure and record, and then go back and analyze the data. Best of all, you get to think about it. We call it science. It's pretty cool."

"Strange ideas," the man said softly.

"Which ones? 'Pretty cool' or 'analyze the data'?"

"Science. Experiment."

"Why is that?"

"Once, it is said, the priests did as you say, they looked for new knowledge. Mokata, a junior priest, did an experiment, and it caused some the Sleepers to wake. The legend says that they killed thousands before our warriors cut them down. Most of our warriors died, in blood and agony. Now all men must be warriors."

"What are the Sleepers?" asks John.

"They are below you. You feed them with your blood, so that they will not wake again. It was the only way to keep them still after Mokata the Cursed damaged the ancestral altar. They said you touched the altar."

Rodney finally speaks, his voice edged with hysteria. "Mutant Wraith. Proto-Wraith, maybe. The stasis chambers are Wraith cocoons. That thing I fixed in the Temple was the main control for this facility."

"What?"

"Think about it. What did the Nall look like? The carapace was something like the bone over the Wraith drones-- you know, you know, over their-- Ah, what's the word?"

"Faces?" If Rodney is starting to have trouble finding words, it is not a good thing.

The Takkan stands. "Those marked by the Nall feed the Sleepers."

John feels sick. "I don't think your Ancestors would approve."

"Our ancestors were brought here by the Ghost Gods, and given the city. We do as the Ghost Gods have instructed, or we they will return and reduce us back to the primitives we once were."

"These gods," John says, "are they pale, with pointy teeth?"

"How can you know that? Only the priests have seen images of the Ghost Gods."

"We get around." The Takkan looks disturbed, and John knows the conversation is over.

"Drink this," he says, holding out something like a water skin. John decides not to refuse. Blood loss means dehydration. The liquid tastes metallic and medicinal. The Takkan gives it to Rodney.

"No."

"You need this," says John. "Take it."

He hears Rodney drinking next to him, gulps that sound desperate. "Do you have anything for us to eat?" asks John.

"Just this," the Takkan says. "It has nutrients in it."

"He will die sooner if he doesn't eat," he answers, a nod of his head indicating Rodney.

"It has nutrients," the man repeats, and gathers the bucket and retreats down the grid to the door. He looks over his shoulder. "I will think about what you have said," he says, and then exits.

"They worship the Wraith," John says.

"We're screwed."

John tests the chains, the effort raising a blinding pain from the wound in his side.

There's a long silence. John glances once toward Rodney and is surprised to find that their eyes meet. When he glances again, Rodney's eyes are closed. He takes a moment to look at the rest of him, naked, sitting with his arms on his knees and his head leaning back, perhaps asleep. That seems like a good idea. He's getting tired. There is a long silence between them, punctuated by drips of their blood into the reservoir below.

Rodney's voice rouses him. "You're going to die first," he says, and John thinks he sounds bleak, and then he thinks it's strange word to use. It's not a word he would normally use.

"Did you hear me?" Rodney asks. "You're gong to die first."

"We're not going to die."

"You've got two bleeding wounds. They've just fed us something that is probably an anticoagulant, and once we lose three pints of blood, we'll probably suffer irreversible organ damage. Plus, I couldn't remember the word 'face.'"

"You remembered 'anticoagulant.' That's a bigger word. Someone will find us. We have to hang on."

"Hang on to what?"

John decides that its okay to use the word bleak. "What kind of question is that? I thought you liked living."

"I prefer to do it in clothes and unchained, with actual food and a bed."

"Sorry I couldn't find us a four-star hotel."

Rodney doesn't answer immediately, and John lets it go. He's tired. He hurts, and he feels like he's speaking from a bad script. Worse, it feels like a script he's said before. "We'll be okay. Hang on. We'll make it." He knows the words work, even when Rodney doesn't believe them, but that doesn't make him feel any less distant from them. The conviction he mustered to speak them sincerely isn't holding. He's just too damn tired. Let it go.

"Colonel? Crap! Colonel Sheppard!"

"What?" Outside himself, John can hear the irritation in his voice. He just wants to be left alone.

"Don't die."

"Not tryin' to."

"If you're going to die, I have to say something."

"Go ahead," John says, still annoyed that Rodney is keeping him awake.

"Did you watch Voyager?"

"Huh? The Star Trek show?" The question doesn't make any sense.

"There was an episode where B'Elanna and Tom Paris are going to die in EVA suits, and she tells him how she feels."

Something is slowly dawning on John, but not quite. "Never saw that one," he says, and then a single lucid thought hits. "Are you such a geek that we're going to talk about sci fi while we wait to be rescued?"

"I doubt we'll be rescued, since if I understood that guy they have a way to block specific star gates that have contacted their own. No, I'm just drawing a parallel that I'm about to discard."

"Do you do that in math?" John is suddenly curious about the intellectual habits of Rodney McKay, but the effort takes too much

"What are you talking about?" Rodney doesn't let him answer, which is fine with John, except that he rushes on almost faster than John's ears can take in. "My point is that she needed to have her hand forced by a near-death situation, and I find myself in similar circumstances."

The best answer John can give is, "Huh?"

"I don't get you, but I'll tell you one thing. You have a lot to learn."

"About what?"

"Life, the universe," Rodney sighs. "Everything."

"Yeah, forty-two. What's your point? Need to sleep here."

"No, you do not need to sleep. You might not wake up if you sleep. It's one of those things like concussions, I bet, although I've never read much about bleeding to death, since it isn't the kind of thing I ever expected to do, but I do know there's a threshold for how much you can lose and not come back."

John wishes Rodney would slow down.

"Anyway, in the last year I realized that if I die a violent death it will probably be your fault."

John doesn't like the way that makes him feel. Besides, he thinks, this is Rodney's fault. If he'd just kept his damn mouth shut they might have gotten away from this with at least new foods and maybe hover car technology, and Rodney could have geeked out all he wanted. John tells himself he wouldn't have given him too much grief when he started saying the things John knew he would say if they had a hover car, like, "These are not the 'droids you're looking for."

"What?" Rodney asked.

John hadn't meant to speak out loud. "Just getting on the science fiction bandwagon, or don't you recognize Star Wars?"

"Of course I do, but why are you quoting that line now? I don't exactly see any Imperial Storm Troopers. Or robots. Just evil space alien vampire bug things in stasis, a stasis, I might add, that looks very much like Wraith cocoons, and maintained by putting people up on this grid thing and letting them bleed to death. That guy is right. It's a pretty damn inefficient system, plus, they could just have blood drives, like normal people."

John reaches down to the wound on his leg, and it is still wet. Rodney was probably right in that they were feeding them some kind of anticoagulant. If Ronon and Teyla don't do something to get them out soon, they're in serious trouble. "You're right."

"Of course I'm right," Rodney answered, and then said, "About what?"

"I'm probably going to die first if we don't get out of here."

"Yes. Well." Rodney seems to stutter for a second, and then gets command of his voice, barely. "Since we may actually die here I think I should tell you," he begins.

John suddenly knows where this is going. "I went back," he says.

"Where?"

"The balcony. I waited for you."

There is a long pause where John counts four slow drips of blood, and Rodney says, "I know."

"Why didn't--?" John doesn't bother to finish the question.

"You don't get to make the rules any more," Rodney says, "if we live through this."

"I can't--" John begins, but he doesn't have the energy to explain himself. He can feel that he's crossing some sort of threshold, and Rodney's voice saying, "Yes you can. Damn it, Colonel!" seems very far away, and sound of his name echoes softly as he blacks out.

==-==

Sheppard woke when it was still dark. Local time was about four hours ahead of Atlantis, if the day length were consistent. The guards outside the door should not have surprised him, and they acquiesced when he explained that he wanted to go for a run. Sheppard jogged out of the city to the empty village, leaving Ronon awake and Rodney drooling on his pillow. Teyla had slept in another room. He headed toward the gate, activating it for radio transmission. Given the local time distance, it should be mid morning in Atlantis.

"So how's it going?" Dr. Weir's voice sounded harried.

"Fine. Everything okay there?"

"Just a small misunderstanding with Major Lorne's team. I wish we had a Teyla for every team."

"Or that you could make all first contacts?" John smiled. Elizabeth was not a delegater at heart, and neither was he. One of their unspoken roles was to encourage the other to do a better job at letting other people do their own jobs.

"How's your first contact going."

"They're called the Takkan. They have hover cars."

"So, high technology? Rodney must be in heaven."

"All the tech is left over from the Ancients. I can't quite figure it out, how they maintain it. It's a very formal culture. I haven't found a way to ask about the Wraith directly, but from asking about their history, they don't seem to have been culled in recent memory."

"That's interesting. Do you know why?"

"Something must have happened, because the population isn't that dense, planet-wide, from what they tell us. I'd like to bring a jumper through and go into orbit, survey the place."

"Next visit, then," Elizabeth said. "Anything they want to trade for technology?"

"I don't know if they'll trade technology, since it's all bound up with their religion. They have what are essentially owner's manuals for the Ancient equipment they use, but they treat them like Bibles. The city doesn't look quite like Ancient architecture, so I'm not sure what their history is. They might be good for food staples, though, except I don't know if we have anything they'll take in trade. Also, it would be nice to find out why the Wraith have left them alone."

"That may be the most important thing, Colonel. See what you can learn. Should I come through?"

"No, they don't talk to women here."

He could hear the raised eyebrow in her response. "Don't talk to women?"

"Yeah. Plus, the empty village that we saw on the MALP is made of plastic."

"That's odd. Is it like Olesia?" There was concern in Elizabeth's voice.

"We don't think so, but when we brought it up at dinner last night, they said it was ceremonial."

"That could mean anything."

"Right. Are they going to dance the Maypole or sacrifice the fatted calf? I'll let you know if we learn anything about it. Sheppard out."

"Atlantis out."

He jogged back to the city, attracting looks from the few Takkan who were already up. He arrived at their room sweaty and hungry. The guards let him in with no comment, and he found Teyla with Ronon and Rodney, sharing breakfast.

"I'm going to get cleaned up. Save me something to eat. In the mean time, brainstorm about what you think we can trade for food, and maybe copies of their manuals."

When he emerged from the bathroom, McKay was still eating, but Ronon and Teyla had moved to the windows.

"Thoughts? Suggestions?" Sheppard asked, toweling his hair and reaching for something that looked like a pastry. McKay had one on his plate, so they must be good.

Teyla looked up. She seemed tired. "I am unsure what we can offer the Takkan in trade. I do not believe they adapt well to the new, and there is uncertainty about Dr. McKay's repair of their machinery."

"He fixed it," said Ronon. "They should be happy."

Sheppard shook his head and said around a mouthful of pastry, "It's not in the books." To stifle McKay's impending outburst, he added, "At least not in their interpretation of the books.

"It may be best if we leave, Colonel. If you wish to negotiate for possible avenues of trade, it might be better to bring an all-male team."

Her manner put him on alert. "What's wrong, Teyla?"

"I was--" She broke off, searching for the right word, and then began again. "I was approached in the night."

Sheppard stopped chewing, the pastry suddenly dry in his mouth. Ronon turned toward her, his face dark. "Are you okay?"

She tilted her head in the half-nod that John read as, _Yes, but with qualifications I won't go into at the moment._ He swallowed and said, "Is the guy still walking?"

Her smile was brief, but genuine. "He is not hurt, but I was firm."

McKay pushed his plate away, eyes casting back and forth to different places on the floor. Sheppard watched him, then looked at the ceiling and blew out a loud breath. "Not acceptable," he said.

"I am unharmed," Teyla assured him.

"Who was it?"

"Monatu, one of Setsu's assistants." Her face gave nothing away. "He did not seem to feel that my behavior granted me the protection afforded females."

McKay surprised Sheppard by nearly exploding. "You've put up with their crap better than anyone could ask!"

"Let's make our thanks and go, then." He put the remains of his pastry down, unwilling to eat Takkan food. "Maybe we can send a different team to learn why they haven't been culled in recent memory."

They had little to do to prepare to leave. They gathered their gear and Sheppard opened the door and asked the guards if they could pay their respects to the governor of the Takkan city, Inoju. The guards led the team through the building to the same reception hall they had seen the day before. There were knots of people conducting business at tables tall enough for them to stand. They waited at the side until the governor extracted himself from one of the knots.

When the formalities of greeting, inquiring as to how they rested were finished, Sheppard bowed again. "I apologize for the suddenness of our departure, but we must return through the gate to our home. If we have not given offense, it would be our honor to meet the Takkan again."

Inoju schooled his face from the first expression of annoyance. "It is not my place to determine offense, but your leaving might be seen as discourteous by some. I thought from our discussions over dinner that we might have opportunity to learn from each other."

Sheppard hesitated, thinking that Inoju seemed like one of the few Takkan that might be interested in new influences, and in the silence, Inoju continued, "Perhaps it is we who have offered offense?" His tone did not indicate that he thought it at all possible, and that if Sheppard should suggest so, he would have found it deeply insulting.

"There is a cultural... difference that we will find easier to overcome if we change the personnel on the team." He heard McKay snort loudly.

Inoju said, "What is this difference?"

The cultural difference line was the best Sheppard could do, despite having thought what to say during the walk to the reception hall. Rodney clearly felt it was not enough, and before Sheppard could say anything, he burst out, "Oh, it could have something to do with the idea that we don't think females deserve anything other than equal treatment, and that no one should be assaulted in the middle of the night."

Sheppard was surprised by the outburst.

"Dr. McKay!" Teyla protested, "my honor is my own. It need not be discussed here."

"Oh, like I was naming names," McKay said, looking at her. "Diplomacy, or whatever it is the Colonel is attempting here, falls down in the face of attempted rape, as far as I'm concerned."

"You were not the one assaulted," Teyla reminded him gently, placing her hand on McKay's shoulder.

Sheppard noticed that the hall had become still. All eyes were turned in their direction, except for Governor Inoju, who had pointedly turned away.

"So, if you'll excuse us," he said, "we'll just take ourselves back to the star gate."

"I think not," said the governor quietly. At his signal, Takkan men began to surround them with their swords drawn.

==-==

John wishes that whatever it is poking him in the side would let up. It hurts. He groans, and the effort of groaning hurts, too.

"Oh, thank God," says Rodney. "You're still alive."

"Hmm," John grunts, glad that the poking has stopped, and the pain subsides to an ache. "Alive," he agrees. "You?"

"What do you think a ghost is talking to you here? Of course I'm alive, I'm just worried that you, that you'll, that--"

"That I'll what?"

"Die, and it will be my fault. Again."

"Why? Did you kill me before and I missed it?"

"Very funny, Colonel." Then Rodney snorts and says quietly, "Not even the little death."

"Huh?" John says reflexively, but a second later he understands something. "Why?" he asks.

"Why _what_? Why are we here? Why is the sky blue? Why do birds suddenly appear?"

John doesn't find this easy. "Why? On the balcony? Why did you let me?"

There is a pause, and John realizes as he listens that the drips have slowed their pace. He has almost forgotten about the question when Rodney finally speaks.

"You asked. I could have said no, and it wouldn't have changed anything between us. You gave me the choice, and you gave me--" Rodney stops with an wordless noise of frustration.

John grunts, because he can't fill in the blank. He gave Rodney orgasms, but he's not sure that would have been the next word. 

"You made sure I liked it, and I thought you gave a shit about what I might like," Rodney continues, sounding defeated. John can hear him take a breath, and then the words take off, faster than he can process. "You didn't turn out to be any different that the boys at camp who used to hold me down and dry hump my butt and then call me a faggot in the light of day. I mean, _I_ wasn't the one creaming my shorts by rubbing on the helpless little _nerd_ , was I? But no, they made me their butt monkey. I mean it wasn't exactly rape since there wasn't exactly any penetration, but all the same it was an unwanted sexual experience, that, really, if you think about it, wasn't necessarily sexual for me. But if you use the dictionary definitions for words like assault, it probably would serve as a reasonably accurate description."

John holds his breath for a moment, then lets it out with a noise. Three drips pass, and he thinks he ought to perhaps say something. He does not like the image of those boys grinding themselves against a young Rodney, and he likes it less interposed over the memory of himself... of his own....

"I'm sorry." It's the best he can do. It isn't enough.

"Pity was not on the menu today. Don't dish it out."

He feels that Rodney is missing his point. "I didn't know," he starts.

"Yes, well, had you known, that would make you a mind reader, which I doubt, even with the mental interface with Ancient technology, and that's not, you know, the same thing."

"Rodney?" he says, to interrupt the flow.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

There is another pause. John isn't sure what he wants to say, and he isn't sure of what he feels. A drop falls.

"What I mean is, I'm sorry if I brought up any bad memories."

Three more drops fall, their sound coming through the grid like echoes that had no original source. 

"It wasn't the same," Rodney says, finally, quietly. "At least it didn't seem the same. Not until--"

He doesn't have to finish the thought. John holds up his hand to cut him off, chain clanking. "I've never," is all he says.

"Oh, and you're going to tell me that you're entirely virginal? Don't hand me that because I know better. I mean your little brag about that girl in the tower even made it in to your mission report, or were you just overcompensating in that 'those that talk the loudest are the queerest' sort of thing? Because as far as I can tell, women throw themselves at you like you've got some kind of female attractor beacon along with that ATA gene, and--" Rodney cuts off his own tirade. "I should have known," he says.

John is merely relieved that it is quiet, but he knows silence will not answer. "Known what?" he asks.

To his surprise, Rodney starts laughing. 

"What's so funny?"

"I'm imagining Heighmeyer's face if I told her this. She'd be so damn smug."

"Told her what?" John can't follow Rodney's turns.

"Quiet. I'm having a self-revelation here."

Rodney sounds just the same as he would if he were asking to be let alone for a difficult repair. John says nothing, thinking about how the metal grid is really hurting his ass, but it hurts far worse to try to shift his weight. 

"So," Rodney eventually pronounces.

"So."

"Well, on one level I thought you were letting me into the club with all the cool kids, and, ah, getting me off pretty well at the same time. I mean _you_ wanted _me_ , and then when, last time, you know, I was offering you what you might call _more_ of me, you gave me this 'who the hell do you think you are' face, and then _now_ you give me this 'I've never' business, and it suddenly occurs to me, because I'm not actually stupid, that maybe I didn't interpret that whole scene correctly."

John rolls his eyes toward Rodney, craning his neck a bit. He is looking for something that will help him make sense of the avalanche of words.

Rodney leans forward so that they can see each others' faces and says, "I'm right, aren't I?"

John drops his eyes. "About which part?"

"Oh, right, you're probably sort of close to dying over there and right now may actually only be as smart as you look, which isn't, you know... You cover it up fairly well, how smart you really are, which is one of the things I like about you. Not that you cover it up, but that you're smart. They way you act in the lab, I would never have known you understood the principles of experimental design well enough to explain them to someone else."

"Well," John says, happy to have something he feels he can use for bait and perhaps derail this conversation, "You're smarter than you look, too."

"Me? Oh, please," Rodney begins, then recognizes the tactic. "Very funny. Now, am I right that you were letting me into the club?"

"Rodney," John says, surprised that he might ever wonder about his own status, given how often he used to claim being the smartest man in Atlantis. "You were already one of the cool kids."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Don't try so hard. No one thinks you're number two," John says, and then tries to laugh, but it hurts.

"Right. Laugh at me."

"Not you; my poor choice of words."

"Number two? Oh, please how juvenile. We're trying to have a serious discussion while possibly, probably sitting here bleeding to death, and you have to make potty jokes."

"You're the one who sounds like every insecure girl I knew in high school." John snorts, then says, "Can we maybe table this discussion to a time when we're out of here?"

"Colonel," Rodney begins.

John cuts in. He's hurt, and he's tired, and he has no energy for this. "Not now. Please."

Something in his voice must have been enough to convince Rodney. He is relieved to hear a slow exhale that sounds like the deflating of all the words that had been about to pour out. Three more drips remind him that his life is pouring out. It must be what Rodney thinks as well.

"You may die before we get out of here. I just wanted to know what happened. Why."

John knows he has to give him something. He opts for the truth. "I... I wouldn't know what to do with _more_ of you."

Rodney answers slowly enough that John can hear at least two drips in the pause as Rodney strangles down some emotion that John guesses is anger. "I'm sure you're capable of learning."

==-==

Sheppard raised both hands so that he could finger a small cut on his neck. It was only a nick, but it reminded him of just how bad it got when they tried to subdue Ronon. That's when they learned that those swords concealed some kind of energy weapons. While he was held by two Takkan, Monatu had put the edge of one sword to his neck, the other in weapon mode to his temple, and told him to call off Ronon.

"It's an order," Sheppard had said, and Ronon submitted.

The four of them stood outside the perimeter of the plastic village, hands bound and feet hobbled. They could see part the star gate between the houses. From a direction other than the city, a hover car arrived carrying a large cage.

Monatu stood next to them. "That is a Nall," he said, with some satisfaction. John could also hear the capital letter in the way the word was spoken. A Nall, not _the_ Nall, which meant there were more of them. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

The body was elongated, as were the legs, and the color was a blue-green tint that reminded him of something. He wasn't sure what kind of thing it was, insect or reptile, and it was difficult to tell through the bars. He was pretty sure he didn't like the tusks coming out of it's mouth.

"So what happens?" Sheppard asked Monatu. "You stand us up in the middle of the village and the Nall eats us?"

"Oh no. It is a trial, as the priests tell us the Ghost Gods have decreed."

Sheppard wondered if they meant the Ancestors. "The Ghost Gods? Did they also build the ring?" 

"Of course."

"I don't think so," McKay interjected. "The Ancients did not use primitive trial by combat, or at least that's what I remember form one of those boring anthropologist presentations. Plus they would have written better user manuals for the equipment."

Monatu's sword came out with a speed that equaled Ronon. "I would cut you for the Sleepers myself, if I could."

"Monatu." Setsu turned at the sound of steel and raised voices. "Your threats are empty, and a product of anger."

The sword was returned to its sheath as Monatu bowed. "Forgive me, Master Setsu. I thank you for the instruction and will strive to follow your words as well as my inadequate character will permit."

"It is my honor that you accept my words." Sheppard could hear the threats carried in the false sentiments. Setsu continued, "The strangers will receive their due. Governor Inoju has expressed some thought that our visitors may be important to us. Even the woman-talker." Setsu ignored Monatu's derisive snort. "He may be able to interpret the books more accurately than the priests. If this is meant by the Ghost Gods, they will win the trial."

There was a wealth of scorn attached to the word 'priests,' and Sheppard began to realize that the Takkan had all the caste rivalries and other political intricacies that humans could never avoid.

Monatu answered, "The woman-talker will not escape the Nall. The tall one might."

Sheppard thought it was a good time to ask. "So, will you explain the trial to us?"

"That is the task of the teller," Setsu answered.

"Yeah, so tell us." Sheppard caught himself. "I'm sure you are worthy and knowledgeable enough to enlighten the ignorant people who must undergo this trial." He hoped he was keeping the sarcasm from his voice.

Setsu looked at him. "It is not mine to tell, for I am not as exalted as the Teller."

Sheppard realized they were referring to a ceremonial post. He wished they would get this over with.

He looked around. The periphery of the plastic village was defined by Takkan men with their swords in weapons mode. Five men approached the car with the cage, waiting for some signal.

Governor Inoju arrived in a new hover car, accompanied by an ancient man who carried no weapons. They came to the village center, and after a short pause, a papery, amplified voice filled the area.

"When the Ghost Gods brought our forebears here, cocooned and preserved against the long journey, they gave us a sacred trust to keep the sleepers. They gave us our city, gave us the machines and the Books of the Process. They built this village to remind us of the squalor from which they rescued us. For the Ghost Gods, we keep the Sleepers, for if we do not, they will return us to the dust from which we came."

Sheppard wasn't sure what was meant by this. He looked at Teyla, and her face was ashen. She started to say something, but was silenced by Monatu's threatening blade.

"Those who stand before us are outlanders. It is our right to accept such people into the Takkan trust, unless they transgress and must be tested by the Nall. No one who comes through the Ring returns to their home, and the priests may instruct the ring to let no more through from the planet that calls. We remain, alone, the guardians of the Sleepers, the servants of the Ghost Gods."

If this is right, thought Sheppard, Atlantis may not be able to help them. If they miss a radio check, and Elizabeth learns that the Gate is blocked, they'll send the Daedelus. It may be too late.

"These four have transgressed. There is a woman who touched a man in public. A man who spoke to a woman and who dared to change a machine."

"Changed it for the better," muttered Rodney before he again became the subject of Monatu's weapon.

"There is a man who killed four Takkan." Sheppard looked at Ronon, who shrugged. "And last is their leader, who has insulted us by tolerating such behavior from his subordinates."

So that's what his crime was? He didn't correct Teyla and McKay? Inoju was staring straight at him, and inclined his head slightly.

"They shall be tested by the Nall," the Teller continued in his papery voice, "from greater crime to lesser. First the leader, then the woman-talker, then the woman, then the killer. We will take them in if they pass the trial."

With that, the hover car exited the circle by taking a slow pass by Sheppard and his team. He looked at Inoju, trying to read his face, but the Governor was looking at Setsu. The Teller, however, gazed unblinkingly at their team, and Sheppard was surprised at close view to realize it was an old woman. On inspiration, he bowed to her. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, and returned a nod. As the car passed by them, Ronon and Teyla bowed in turn. McKay did not, lifting his chin and looking angry.

Monatu moved on some signal Sheppard did not see, and loosed the bindings on his hands. He freed the hobble with a sword stroke, the ease of which made Sheppard glad he had no more than a nick on the skin over his carotid artery. The rest of his team was pulled away, and the ranks of Takkan men closed around the center of the village. Using a long stick, one of the men opened the door of the cage, and the hover car rose and left the circle as the Nall landed on four long legs in the grass.

Sheppard had only his hands, and he didn't think they would be enough. The pincers at the creature's mouth, which he had mistaken for tusks at a distance, looked like those of some large beetle, and there was carapace or bone around the jaw and eyes. The Nall could be a very large insect, except that the legs were clearly muscle over bone. Endoskeleton, exoskeleton, Sheppard thought, looking for weaknesses. 

The Nall was closer to the circle of Takkan men than to Sheppard, and turned toward them, but they activated their weapons, which seemed to be enough to herd it away from them. Sheppard stood very still, wondering if it sensed movement more than form, like many insects. It began to circle in place, hunting for the sign of something other than those weapons, when Sheppard saw the tail, jointed and barbed, but thin. He wondered if he could pull it off then use it as a weapon, if he could get close enough. Then the thing reared up on its hind legs, standing seven feet tall and giving him a view of the segmented back and an idea that the front claws, at least, could grab. "That's not helpful," he muttered.

The soft voice was enough to give him away, and the Nall whirled toward him.

It was fast, and he ran, using the huts for cover. He entered one, and it was furnished identically to the one he and Ronon investigated. He stood on the table, then jumped for the rafters, kicking his way through the plastic straw of the thatching until he had enough of a hole to get to the roof. The only way he would have a chance would be to jump on it from behind.

The Nall halted, appearing to sense, but not see him. Sheppard watched it move, more convinced that this was some insect and reptile hybrid. The segments of the back were each half a foot long, and the joins between them looked like tough membrane. The impact of his jump alone might be enough to damage it. He waited as quietly as he could until the thing came close enough before he launched himself onto its back. 

The creature's back did not break, and it was all Sheppard could do to hang on as it twisted and bucked. The thing tried to turn its head around and looked like it might be able to go all the way, but he reached around and grabbed one of the pincers to hold it still. The Nall bucked, and he wrapped his legs around the torso as he pulled at the head, trying to get at an eye, or even rip off the pincer he held. One of the forelegs reached back, past his head and grabbed him by the leg, claws digging deep into the muscle of the thigh. He lost his grip, and the Nall threw him to the ground. He barely had time to register what had happened before the thing was on him, digging the pincers into his right side and up under his ribs. There was something strangely familiar, a draining sensation that accompanied the pain, before he passed out.

==-==

John rouses slightly. He thought he heard an explosion. He decides he's dreaming.

==-==

When they cut off his clothes, he stupidly thought they were preparing him for trauma surgery. Then he saw the top knots, and no one was wearing scrubs. 

==-==

A voice makes it through the fog in his brain. "Shit, look at that!" Lorne? "There must be thousands of them."

==-==

He came to chained on a metal grid. The stench was familiar, but seemed almost unfinished. Then he realized that whenever he's smelled this much blood, there's also been the sharp note of cordite in the mix. 

McKay was beside him. "You okay?" Sheppard managed to say.

The response startled him. McKay kicked at the shackles on his feet and howled in frustration. If he could move like that, Sheppard thought, he must be mostly okay. It was a good thing one of them was, because he knew he was screwed unless by some miracle they got him back to Atlantis in time for Carson to patch him up.

"McKay! Rodney!" It hurt to try to talk over the noise of the chains and the ragged voice. "Rodney, just breath. We'll get through this." 

Rodney gave another wordless shout. John could hear him work for control, and fail. He hoped Rodney would eventually succeeded. There was nothing else John could do to help him.

==-==

The next sound that wakes him is a gunshot, too close, followed by another, and then Rodney's voice saying, "Would you be a little more careful there? That's my coffee hand. Plus, need two hands for the keyboard."

"Two hands to fix things, too. Don't worry, McKay. I'm a good shot." 

Ronon. If John could laugh, he would. "Nice to see you."

"You can't see me. Your eyes are closed." Ronon is joking. John wonders if that's a good sign or a bad one. He tries to open his eyes, but it seems like too much work. There are two more shots, and he can hear Rodney standing up next to him.

"What happened?" he asks.

"They removed the Nall when it attacked you," answered Teyla. "Dr. McKay was unable to escape harm. I escaped the Nall for the allotted period of time."

"When they cut me loose for the trial," Ronon said, positioning John's arm and pausing to shoot off the chain, "I killed Monatu and the Nall, then Teyla and I made it to the gate."

"You make it sound easy," John says, knowing it wasn't. He feels them hold his leg, then hears the next shot. 

Teyla says, "We have less than fifteen minutes to get you to the jumper. They did something to the gate, and we couldn't dial back. Dr. Zelenka had to find a way around their block, but it is only temporary."

"That means you're dealing with the thirty-eight minute window?" Rodney asked. "Figures Zelenka wouldn't find a way to do it without screwing something up."

John can tell that Rodney is complaining out of habit and fear. Ronon pulls his other leg and shoots at the last shackle.

The shot is followed by an explosion below them. The lights go out.

"Uh, oh," Rodney says. "How much time to we have?"

"Fourteen minutes," Teyla says. "We can find our way in the dark. There is a jumper waiting." John can see the sudden glow of a flashlight through his closed lids.

"I'm not worried about that. Did you see all those stasis pods below us? Did you see what was in them?" John can hear Rodney's rising panic. Having faced the Nall, he understands it. 

"Yes."

"We've got ten thousand proto-Wraith that are about to wake up very hungry, and we're the appetizer." John can hear the movement of a thousand long-legged bodies and the shouts of warning from Lorne's men below.

"We must go now," he hears Teyla say.

John feels himself pulled to his feet. He wishes he could help, but there's not much left in him. He wants to make the speech to say, 'Leave me. Save yourselves,' but he knows they won't listen, so he saves his energy.

"I'll carry him," Rodney says.

"You are wounded," says Teyla. 

"Yeah, and do you want to trust me to keep those _things_ back while we get the hell out of here? You two handle the weapons. I'm having an adrenaline rush here and will probably put my back out permanently after it wears off, but in the mean time I think we should take advantage of the fact that I think I'm the better choice for pack mule. Plus, naked and unarmed. Not so helpful."

John can't help but smile. The hands on him change as Ronon gives him over to Rodney. He opens his eyes for a moment to find Rodney staring at him intently. John can't face what he sees behind the look, and shuts his eyes again, then grunts in pain as he feels himself hoisted over and around Rodney's shoulders in a fireman's carry. There is no way they can do this without aggravating the wound in his side. He clamps his jaw around the pain, trying to spare Rodney the guilt of hurting him further.

"If we get out of here," Rodney says, his voice a hiss and a growl at the same time, pitched so that Ronon and Teyla can't hear, "you are coming to my room, and you are going to learn a few things."

"Like what?" he manages to croak

Rodney shifts John on his shoulders, and in the haze of pain John almost misses the lips and tongue on his neck. Then there is just the cooling sensation of drying moisture and a feel like an afterimage of touch. It is out of context, sharper than it would be if they were in a quiet space, and it is a promise of more. 

John cannot follow the entire escape, fading in and out of consciousness. There are sounds of gun fire and the screams of men. Rodney's voice is a constant stream of encouragement, invective, time counting and running commentary. It blurs into the thread of a lifeline he can almost see, connecting him to his body and his life.

***

When he wakes in the infirmary, someone calls Dr. Beckett. 

"Looks, like you're going to make it, Colonel."

"How is everyone else?" John struggles to sit up, but a stabbing pain from his wound sends him back down.

"None of that," Beckett, says. "Not for a while yet."

"Ronon, Teyla?" John asks. "Rodney?"

"They're all fine. Rodney's moaning about the scar he'll have on that arm, but it wasn't anything I couldn't stitch up. It was surprisingly clean, but it took a day and a platelet supplement before I could get you two to stop bleeding."

"Yeah, they fed us some kind of anti-coagulant."

Beckett smiles. "You'd think they could've just held a blood drive every now and then."

"You'd think," John agrees. "Anything else I need to know?"

"I suppose I should wait for Major Lorne to give you the military report, but Jacobson didn't make it back."

John is glad Carson hadn't made him wait. He likes to know the worst right away, and he takes a moment to remember Jacobson. Sergeant. Israeli. Tough as anyone John had ever met. If the Nall got him, he took at least two with him. "Anything else I need to know?"

The doctor blows out a long breath. "We managed to capture one of the Nall before--" He cannot finish the sentence, and looks up past John.

"Before what?"

"Before we destroyed the Takkan city," answers Elizabeth, walking up to the other side of the bed.

"What?" 

"Colonel Caldwell and I believed it was better to destroy the Nall once they had woken. There were very few Takkan left alive by the time we got there."

"You destroyed a civilization?" John asks, quietly.

It is Rodney who answers, walking up behind Elizabeth. "They were destroyed from the moment Ronon accidentally shot the controls getting us out. The Nall were very hungry."

"So we blew them up?" John is not happy with this thought. He had no love for the Takkan, but they had their points.

"Rodney," Elizabeth says, moving so that Rodney can reach the bedside, and putting her hand on his shoulder. The gesture is new to John, but looks like a practiced attempt to calm him. John wonders how long he has been out. To answer John she says, "There were other settlements, but that was the only city. We evacuated as many as we could using jumpers, but it took the Daedelus six hours to get there and a few priests in the Temple were all that was left in the city. Zelenka worked with one of the Takkan to adapt generators to give out the same energy reading as the Takkan's weapons. The Nall avoid those. Major Lorne led the teams that herded all of the Nall back within the city."

"I determined the optimal placement to create a perimeter, and we were able to keep any Nall from leaving the containment area," says Rodney. "Then, boom."

"Boom?"

"We decided to use a nuclear weapon," said Dr. Beckett. "I believe the radiation will destroy the Nall's ability to regenerate."

"Can they regenerate from being vaporized?"

Rodney bounces on his toes. "Better safe than sorry, as they say, and I for one would be very sorry to see those Nall things again. Of course, we wouldn't want to go through that star gate again any time soon, what with the fallout and radioactive contamination, but I don't think the Wraith will either, since Zelenka seems to have permanently destroyed their gate controls."

"From what we've been able to learn," says Elizabeth, "the Wraith settled that world with humans and built the city to guard the Nall."

"Why?."

Dr. Beckett answered, "The Nall seem to be a missing link between the Iratus bug and the Wraith."

"Didn't want to kill them, but didn't want to compete either," says John. "And they set humans to guard them. I guess if I were a Wraith, I'd think it was funny."

Beckett says, "I've been able to learn quite a bit already from the one we brought back. I think it will help me refine the retrovirus."

"And that's good?"

"We need everything we can get, John," Elizabeth said. "Knowledge is one of our best roads to defense."

"You mean power. Knowledge is power."

"And we need all the power can get to defend ourselves."

"Might have learned a thing or two from that Takkan city before you nuked it." He knows Caldwell talked her into it, and it bothers him to know that it is all rubble and radioactivity.

"You weren't available for discussion when the decision had to be made." Elizabeth looks hard, and John can tell that this is one more decision that will not rest easy with her, despite what she says about it.

"True," he says, and looks to Beckett, who obliges him by shooing everyone out. Rodney hangs behind the others and turns to look at him. For a moment there is something naked about his expression, something John doesn't think he has the vocabulary to name, and then he is gone.

He'll be back, John thinks, and slips back into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The next story is ZoeRayne's [ Fortification and Siege Warfare](http://archiveofourown.org/works/116813). I 'bought' it from her on the first [Sweet Charity](http://www.sweet-charity.net/) auction, and she was supposed to get them from this story to N+1, the next in this series. It is a tremendous story, and you should go read it.
> 
> Betas by whitecrow and ZoeRayne.


End file.
